I do not own the characters. I do own the situation. I do not own the poem Peanut-Butter Sandwich - that belongs to Shel Silverstein.
Boromir's assessment had proved far more accurate than Hermione would have thought. As the group lounged, waiting for Gandalf to remember what their path would be, Ginny, Luna, and Hermione were digging in the beaded bag.
"Hah! Yes!" Hermione's voice was soft, but triumphant. She pulled out a jar of peanut butter and three spoons, handing Ginny and Luna each one before unscrewing the cap and scooping a large portion for herself. Both redhead and blonde followed suit. Sam watched them closely as they set to work cleaning the spoons with their tongues.
"Miss Luna," he said; the Hobbits preferred their other-world names to the Elvish ones, which were, admittedly, a mouthful, "what is that?"
"It's called peanut butter; would you like some?" Luna replied, pulling another spoon from Hermione's bag and scooping a small amount of the creamy spread before handing it over to him. She didn't even wait for an answer.
Sam took the spoon, regarding it with a curious expression, before he tasted the substance. A smile lit up his face, and he stuck the spoon in his mouth.
"It's good, but very sticky. Be careful how much you take in; you never know what might happen," Hermione said.
Ginny was fighting back giggles, while Sam stared at her, eyes wide as dinner plates. He didn't remove the spoon.
"It might just be a joking poem, but you never know; it could be true," Hermione said, before leaning back against a rock and reciting quietly;
"I'll sing you a story of a silly young king
Who played with the world at the end of a string,
But he only loved one single thing -
And that was just a peanut-butter sandwich.
His scepter and his royal gowns,
His regal throne and golden crowns
Were brown and sticky from the mounds
And drippings from each peanut-butter sandwich.
His subjects all were silly fools
For he had passed a royal rule
That all that they could learn in school
Was how to make a peanut-butter sandwich.
He would not eat his sovereign steak,
He scorned his soup and kingly cake,
And told his courtly cook to bake
An extra-sticky peanut-butter sandwich.
And then one day he took a bite
And started chewing with delight,
But found his mouth was stuck quite tight
From that last bite of peanut-butter sandwich.
His brother pulled, his sister pried,
The wizard pushed, his mother cried,
'My boy's committed suicide
From eating his last peanut-butter sandwich!'
The dentist came, and the royal doc.
The royal plumber banged and knocked,
But still those jaws stayed tightly locked.
Oh darn that sticky peanut-butter sandwich!
The carpenter, he tried with pliers,
The telephone man tried with wires,
The firemen, they tried with fire,
But couldn t melt that peanut-butter sandwich.
With ropes and pulleys, drills and coil,
With steam and lubricating oil -
For twenty years of tears and toil -
They fought that awful peanut-butter sandwich.
Then all his royal subjects came.
They hooked his jaws with grapplin chains
And pulled both ways with might and main
Against that stubborn peanut-butter sandwich.
Each man and woman, girl and boy
Put down their ploughs and pots and toys
And pulled until kerack! Oh, joy -
They broke right through that peanut-butter sandwich.
A puff of dust, a screech, a squeak -
The king s jaw opened with a creak.
And then in voice so faint and weak -
The first words that they heard him speak
Were, 'How about a peanut-butter sandwich?'"
Ginny, who had held her laughter in so well, burst out with a cackle. Luna giggled, and Hermione grinned. Sam's face was filled with terror at the thought.
It was Ginny who spoke. "It's just a poem; it's never happened that I know of."
"If it had, I'd shove an extra-sticky peanut-butter sandwich in Boromir's mouth so we wouldn't have to listen to his snide comments about how women are useless in battle," Hermione said, looking pointedly at the red-haired male, whose eyes were wide at the thought of not being able to speak a word.
There; Sam's introduction to peanut butter was a success, and Boromir's afraid of getting hit with a spell. Probably the shortest chapter so far.